


the storm without, the storm within

by Quilly



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Multi, PTSD flareup, Pre-Relationship, Thunderstorms, carolina is not good at this, north has a soothing voice, york is not a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8415313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: "as we huddle together, the storm raging outside"The MOI is docked during a thunderstorm. North wanders.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr drabble I'm posting here. For Neo.

North wasn’t sure what compelled him to walk the halls of the Mother of Invention that night, but it might have had something to do with the rain lashing at the ship. They were docked for maintenance, not allowed to leave the ship until the morning, and thunder echoed oddly through the halls.

It was late enough that even CT should have at least been in her quarters, and accordingly North didn’t see much of anyone as he strode around, the padding of his feet barely a sound to give him away. That is, until he saw the tip of a red ponytail whipping around a corner and the sound of a door sliding open and shut. North frowned. That was York’s room. It wouldn’t be any of his business—isn’t, really, any of his business—to know what Carolina and York got up to after hours, but as he passed the door it opened again and he was yanked inside.

A crackle of thunder pealed and broke, and the hands holding North’s arm spasmed. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed York huddled against the wall, flinching every time the thunder gave new voice to its fury. Carolina’s face was pale, her eyes wide, every inch of her screaming “help me, I don’t know what to do.”

“Hi,” North said, carefully detaching Carolina’s hands and loosely holding one of hers in his. He took slow, deliberate steps towards York, whose blind eye came up to look at him before a small sound of impatience escaped from behind York’s arms and the functional eye followed.

“Hey,” York said, and his voice was hoarse. Carolina’s hand tightened in North’s, and he carefully sat down. “What—what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” North said, leaning against the bunk and casually stretching out his legs. Carolina perched like a spooked bird next to him, hovering between his solid presence and York’s frenetically. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

A gravelly laugh, and one of York’s hands carded through hair that looked very much like it had received the same treatment for quite some time. Another boom of thunder, and Carolina and York both flinched, Carolina so hard her head nearly rebounded off of the wall she was trying to crawl into. North’s heart broke a little.

“Mind if I slide in here?” he asked, and at a jerky nod from York he fit himself into the space between the two of them. He took Carolina’s hand on one side, York’s on the other, and started gently babbling about inane subjects—the weather where he grew up, the rumors he heard about tomorrow’s dinner, gossip about this or that technician or soldier. He avoided talking about work (not like they actively pursued the topic anyway, but North had a feeling of the memories the thunder was stirring up were particularly sensitive), trying to keep his voice as soothing as possible.

At long last, it seemed as if the storm passed, and though North’s throat was raw he didn’t stop talking until both hands in his stopped shaking. York was drowsing on his shoulder, Carolina sitting stiffly on the other side. North watched her for a while in silence, watching her piece her iron self-control back together.

“Thanks,” she said after a while. “I…didn’t know what to do, when he…”

“Common enough problem, in our line of work,” North said comfortably. He squeezed Carolina’s hand, then let it go, doing his best not to be too hurt that she yanked it back so quickly. “Help me get him into bed?”

Between the two of them, York settled easily into his bunk with mutterings about not coddling him like a baby. Carolina gently flicked his nose, which made his face crinkle up. North chuckled.

“Meanie,” York yawned. Then, mumbled, “Love you.”

North and Carolina stared, first at him, then at each other, but when a loud snore broke the silence, so did the rigid set to Carolina’s shoulders. She touched York’s hair with cautious fondness. North let his smile spread wide.

“Might be a good idea to stay with him,” North said. “Make sure he’s okay when he wakes up.”

“He’s not a child,” Carolina retorted, but when neither of them moved, she looked at North, eyes glittering. “The bunk isn’t big enough.”

“We’ll make it work,” North said.

(It does not, in the end, work, but no one says a thing when North smuggles an extra bunk in later. He has a feeling Carolina, lifting the other end and glaring, had something to do with that.)


End file.
